


Darkness Comes When Light Leaves

by Envision_Everything



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Bloodplay, Dark, Desperation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Longing, One-Sided Relationship, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Pining, So much angst, Vampires, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:36:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Envision_Everything/pseuds/Envision_Everything
Summary: They’re stagnant, she trying to push the boundaries of their relationship and him holding steady. He appears to be in no rush whatsoever to tip the status quo while she waits with bouncing curls and fidgeting hands. But nothing happens. No conversations (she tried to start a few and he shut those down right quick) no confessions, not a word out of place in their friendship and Annie hates herself but it hurts.He doesn’t see other women, until he does. No Box Tunnel 20





	

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. SO NOTES: Slight AU- No Box Tunnel-20, Annie still sent to purgatory, Mitchell screws it up anyway. Sex is explicit in one spot (you'll know by first line) you can skip that section and life will still make sense. Good lord, I just meant to write a one shot then it spiraled out of control, holy crap, how long is this ish? I just found Being Human and I ADORE Annie and Mitchell respectively and together and I hate, HATE, how they ended (also how they began tbh, season three was rough as frick). Why do all my ships hurt me?  
> ANYWAY. Good luck!

The beginning of the end starts with a hit and run accident on 24th and South. It’s been the longest day in history at the hospital and Mitchell is about ready to kill someone (not really, but maybe really) when a group floods into the emergency room.

She’s blond, big chested, nose ring on the left and jeans tight as sin. She smells of smoke and liquor and looks the type to try anything just once. Her blood sings to him from across the ER, there’s something odd about her scent, like it’s been claimed, and so he mops progressively closer. His gaze stays down as he casts her looks from the corner of his eye.

She looks up and narrows her eyes at him and it’s in that moment he recognizes the scent.

She smells like vampire.

Gaping a bit as she racks her eyes up and down his form while he does the same to hers, they stand frozen for a time.

Her name is Juliet and she will ruin his life, take everything from him (but really he takes it from himself) but Mitchell doesn’t know that yet so he asks her name and takes her to a pub. It’s the beginning of the end, agony acute hovers above him and as he looks back on it now, he begs the world to let him walk away from her instead of walking towards her.

When they meet it’s the beginning of the end and it tastes like nectar and smells like arousal.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Annie tries not to think about it- purgatory. It was dark and it was cold and it was her worst nightmares come to life. She sat alone in a cell, the parade of dismembered and mutilated bodies coming in to tell her what happens when you defy death, when you reject your door.

When she had seen Mitchell at the end of the long hall, back to her, hair a matted disaster of curls and product, there is no way to truly vocalize how relieved she was. It’s the purest form of love and affection and _life_ in her veins as she breaks into a sprint. Catching her around the waist he picks her up off the ground, spins her around, and she buries her face in his shoulder and neck and _inhales_.

When they appear in Whales she’s a little more in control of herself (but not by much, contact is a must). He looks at her as if life is pouring from her skin and the moon was hung by her hands alone. So it’s not much of a shock when she finds herself watching him a little more closely, a little more intimately. Her heart beats frantically (well, no it doesn’t beat at all but she swears the phantom sensation is just as strong) whenever he is in the room. She feels safe when his fingers graze her skin and dreamy when he embraces her full body.

But as much as things change, so do they stay the same.

They’re stagnant, she trying to push the boundaries of their relationship and him holding steady. He appears to be in no rush whatsoever to tip the status quo while she waits with bouncing curls and fidgeting hands. But nothing happens. No conversations (she tried to start a few and he shut those down right quick) no confessions, not a word out of place in their friendship and Annie hates herself but it _hurts_.

He doesn’t see other women, until he does.

Her name is Juliet and she is perfect. The woman was the Mitchell-female-equivalent in every way. She matched him drink for drink, cig for cig, dark side for dark side. A friend had been bitten, transformed, and made her his blood bag and she _liked_ it. She smells of copper and stale liquor but she’s the sexiest woman Annie has ever laid eyes on.

They spend every waking moment together after they meet.

He doesn’t often bring her back to Honolulu Heights, so he’s never really home. Tea is made, tea is washed down the drain. Movie night becomes silence in the house. Lounging around in his sweats becomes as rare a sight as flying pigs. They speak five words a week at best, (but Annie doesn’t count _anything_ right then as even _remotely_ involving the word ‘best’) and it’s the most alone the ghost has ever felt. They disintegrate in a matter of months.

Nina is pregnant and the house is in equal measure joyful and terrified. After the first full moon passes, a collective sigh of relief is released. Annie finds herself wrapped up in baby prep- cribs and wallpaper and strollers and comical onesies. But then it happens, the conversation that turns the world on its head, turns Annie’s existence, on its head.

“We’re not near any good schools.” “We’ll be nearby of course!” “We don’t even know if she’ll be able to see you Annie!” The last is snapped in anger after she has pestered them past the point of no return.

She leaves the house for two weeks.

Mitchell doesn’t notice.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

She begs him for harder, for faster, for _deeper_ and god, she is the most hardy woman he has ever had the pleasure of fucking. She likes it rough, the kind of rough that makes it hard to walk in the morning, the kind that gets a guy roaring to go at the mere memory of her. Blond hair, straight as an arrow, flies around her shoulders as he drives into her from behind. Strong hands (she works in a bike shop) grip the head board and she pushes back for more.

He growls out before gripping her hair and pulling roughly. Her back bends as she tilts her head to the side giving him free reign of her neck. He bites down, and blood, ( _yes, always the blood, god harder, sweet god damn blood)_ rushes into his mouth and she screams louder. She loves this, is as addicted to it as he is. His teeth in her neck, his cock in her cunt, she begs him for it like this- hard, deep, fast, _biting_ and he finds saying no is less and less likely.

He’s pulling from her neck quickly but the bite is shallow, barely piercing her vein but he gets his reward none the less. His eyes go pitch and his hips speed up. One hand not tangled in her hair travels down her back and finds her ass (her words from their second meeting fly through his head “ _come on, fill me up Mitch- my cunt, my neck, my ass_ ”) and he knows she’s done. With a shriek she convulses around him while forcing her hips back to take as much as he can give.

The combination of her pulsing, grippingly tight cunt and the taste of her sweet, hot blood as it pours into his mouth sends him over the edge he always chases with her. Releasing her neck he groans loud and long as his hips stutter against her ass while he cums violently, still pushing deep into her as he does.

His breathing (old habits die hard) is labored, chest covered in sweat as he comes down from the spiraling high he has reached. She wiggles her hips a bit and he moans out loud as his softening cock slips a little deeper.

“Again?” Her voice is low and thready (just like her pulse) and he only shakes his head.

“One day I’m gonna break you in half darlin’” he feels himself harden again (one of the only vampiric upsides: refectory period is nearly nil when bloods involved). She’s on her back, mouth around him before he can blink. This time, it’s his hands gripping her wooden head board, head thrown back as she swallows him down.

Their relationship is volatile, god he knows that (knew that since the moment they met) but it feels so damn _good_. She is darkness and twisted sexual deviance with leather pants and a fucking talented mouth. There are parts of himself, large marked parts of himself, that he hates with a burning disgust that threatens to eat him alive. Pushing those parts to the side for the past few years has taken a toll, one he didn’t realize was slowly killing him. Juliet, she wanted those parts of him, she _craved_ those parts of him. Indulging in her, her body, her blood, her darkness, was wrong but he _needed_ it.

He wasn’t made for the light- not like George, not like Annie. There’s a part of him that battles to crawl out of his chest when he’s with Juliet, the part that roared and screamed and raged when Annie was taken from him. Despite what George may say or think, Mitchell is not blind, and Annie is many things but subtle is not one of them.

Ever since her return from purgatory (she calls it a rescue but the word implies he was heroic in his actions) she has looked at him like he knows he looks at her. She was discovering what he had the day she was taken away from him- she was discovering what they truly had, what they had _together_. She was realizing just how much they needed each other and what that meant. He couldn’t blame her for the touching, the chat, the bright smiles, because he was reluctant to leave her side since spinning her around in purgatory’s halls.

Nina had cornered him in the kitchen a month after her return, he remembers that conversation with perfect clarity. “You’re in love with her,” it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t an observation, it wasn’t a hunch, it was _fact_ and he felt no need to deny it. “Yes,” she had looked shocked at his simple response but _god_ , didn’t they know? He wasn’t exactly _functional_ when they took her from him. She braved the subject again, “then why-“ “It’s not your concern,” that had put a wrathful look on his friend’s (honestly, were they friends? It didn’t often feel like it) face but he kept his own blank.

He had met Juliet a week later.

Nina didn’t understand but he and Annie… Annie was his forever. Annie was his one, his _everything_ and they had time. Everyone else was too young, they didn’t understand that time dragged, that length was meaningless because it just _kept going_. Annie was his everything, but that didn’t mean he was ready yet. He had wanted to work on himself a bit more, be more comfortable, be clean a while longer, but then it wasn’t just about that anymore.

Now, now he was ‘sowing his wild oats’ as they would say. Annie with her milk chocolate skin and bouncing curls and sweet smile. She was comfort, she was fresh tea and cuddling on the couch and making love and _home_. She was warmth and gentleness and goodness. She was light. And he wanted that, of course he did, but it was just so convenient because Juliet was the opposite of Annie in every way.

Juliet was alabaster skin and straight blonde hair and bedroom eyes. She was darkness and brooding and fucking on every surface. She was blood play and bright red lips around his cock and words of sin. She indulged that side of him and he wanted that now, he wanted one last hurrah before he settled down with Annie for eternity, because he had Annie for eternity. Juliet would fade, grow old, and move on, but Annie would be her bright, bubbly, bouncing curls forever.

So when he took Juliet a little slower (usually by their third round of the night), with a little more feeling and her blonde hair turned brown and curly, when her eyes went from green to chocolate, it didn’t occur to him to be alarmed. Because he was living in the moment, he was allowing life to happen and when he was ready, Annie and he would begin forever, together.

(It also didn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t always be waiting for him).

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Baby Eve is born and Annie becomes corporeal again. She is filled to the brim with happiness as she watches her friends welcome their (human, thank all that is good) daughter into the world. Mitchell is standing next to her by the doorway and she can’t bring herself to hate him right now (though that’s been a feeling creeping inside of her for the past three months- ever since she caught a glimpse of him and Juliet) so she stands there, hands clasped to her chest.

She won’t look at him because she can smell the faint muffled scent of cigarettes and sex and blood clear as when she was alive. When Nina hands Eve to Annie there is such wonderment in her eyes, both the baby’s and the brunette’s. She coos and coaxes a weary blink from the pink bundle and life is okay, life is, no _Annie,_ is content. Handing the baby to George she takes a moment to look around the room. Her friends are happy, they’re content, they’re moving on in the world.

It was hard to believe she had been in purgatory almost a year ago. Honolulu Heights wasn’t home but it was a refuge of its own sort. George and Nina had been looking at houses and found a nice one in a family suburb near a good school. They would be moving in a few months, after Nina’s recovery. They promised to be around, to come by and see her all the time, but Annie knew it was time she let them go. Though they may love her, they would never understand. She was dead- she was stagnation at its finest, and she wouldn’t damper their family with her frozen life.

Most of Mitchell’s clothing had migrated from his room at the B&B to Juliet’s flat across town. She asked very few questions about their relationship (they’re fight the day he came home smelling like blood was never spoken of again but the chasm between them increased thirty fold that day) so she just assumed that’s where they had ended up. Everything was changing.

Everything except for Annie.

Sighing she pulled herself from her thoughts and watched blissful as the baby clutched at Mitchell’s curly hair. Ignoring the fierce punch in the gut that seeing him smiling so purely at the little girl in his arms caused, Annie fought tears (she had been fighting a lot lately she realized suddenly, purgatory felt like a vacation these days). For the first time since her death Annie felt _old_. There was this weight on her shoulders and chest that made standing upright difficult (it wouldn’t go away, Annie will realize later, that was the day the weight came but it never did leave).

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Spending time with Annie during the immediate aftermath of a liaison with Juliet feels… it feels repulsive. The cliché of not knowing the light until it is dark has never meant more to him than it did the moment he is standing next to Annie in the delivery room. She is light and god, he is pure _darkness_. Where he would once embrace her, clutch her hand when she was hyper excited, he now makes sure there is ample room between them. He doesn’t deserve to touch her, not with hands that had gripped the hips of another woman two hours earlier.

Annie doesn’t say a word in his direction, she doesn’t _look_ in his direction and a shiver of sorrow runs through him. The distance between them has been yawning wider and wider, but ever since he came home smelling of blood, that distance had felt insurmountable. It was hard now, to be in her presence with his skin stained with blood and cum. He needed to see this affair with Juliet through, then he could return to Honolulu Heights and restore their relationship, but for now, for now distance was best.

He began migrating cloths from his drawers to Juliet’s the next day, startled that there were so few in his room _to_ move.

Mitchell didn’t think Annie would notice.

She did.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

George and Nina move out, Mitchell comes home less and less (she’s hard pressed to call it ‘home’ for him these days) and Annie gets a job at a book store and life moves forward.

The shop helps, with her loneliness. She finds that the longer she is dead the more inclined to read she becomes (an odd thing to pick up post-mortem) but she creates a book club and has friends (kind of, they don’t know she’s dead so there’s that) and it makes things a little bit more okay. Mitchell is nearly nonexistent and Annie cries most nights he’s not in the house, when she’s there alone, so she asks her boss if she can keep the shop open later for no additional pay. He agrees.

Soon she starts making tea for patrons, then convinces the owner to install Wi-Fi, then adds chairs and… and the shop becomes a hipster-student coffee-tea/book shop. People know her, they know her by _name_ and she knows them. She knows their tea preferences and suggests books and laughs as football players flirt with the cheerleaders. Annie feels… well she’s content in a way. Her heart hurts and her chest gets tight if she sees curly black hair or fingerless gloves, but she feels as if maybe, just maybe, this is what her after life is winding down to.

When Eve is about six months Annie meets Laura. The ghost is sweet and their friendship grows at record speed. They’re both lonely and have little to do with all their spare time so they read and hold cups of tea and eventually Laura takes up residence in one of the rooms at the B&B. Lonely nights become less lonely, and it isn’t until after Eve’s first birthday party that Laura asks the question Annie avoids thinking about.

“Why do you stay?” Laura asks this without judgment or malice. The red head is the kindest and most tender hearted woman (spirit) Annie has ever met. They’re sitting on a cliff overlooking the crashing waves below and Annie’s response gets stuck in her throat.

“Because I have to, because they- George, Nina, Mitch-“ her voice cracks on his name but she pushes forward, eyes a bit damp. “Because my friends need me.” She says it gently but her brows are furrowed. It had been nearly three weeks since she had seen Nina and George and baby Eve before their party that day. Mitchell was late but he looked… well Annie didn’t look very long so she wasn’t really in a place to make a call on how he looked.

“Annie,” the sensation of a touch on her arm is odd, being touched by fellow ghosts is different but not unpleasant. The brunette doesn’t turn her head as her friend keeps speaking. “But do they… do they _really_ still need you?” Tears come in earnest now because Laura is right and, god, when had her whole life moved on without her? When had her _boys_ moved on without her?

She cries until the sun sets, Laura a steady presence at her side.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

_One new text_

FROM: George

_Hey, Annie wants to have a family dinner at ours tomorrow night, you free?_

Mitchell squints at his phone in the midday light. Juliet has already left for work and Mitchell has the day off. He types out a quick reply before burrowing under the sheets once more. They smell like sweat and sex and cigarettes.

He misses the smell of tea and coffee mixed with something unique to home (Annie maybe?) but he shuts the thought down. Mitchell doesn’t get to think about Annie when he’s sleeping in someone else’s bed. His text tone goes off again and he cracks one eye open to read it.

FROM: George

 _She says to invite Juliet_.

Mitchell blinks, his eyes not quite believing he read that right. Why would Annie want him to bring Juliet? They had never met, not really, other than an awkward run in when they were trying to make it to his room one night. But that’s just Annie wasn’t it? Friendly and kind and welcoming till the end. A small smile filters across his face before it drops off. Shaking his head, the vampire shoves the phone under the pillow next to his and falls back asleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Its, to everyone’s surprise, a fantastic success. Annie did not know Juliet (she did not _want_ to know Juliet) but even the ghost has to admit that she has a sort of charm about her. Rough around the edges, a little crass (okay a lot crass) but she knows what she likes and has no qualms telling it like it is. Once again Annie is struck by how well matched she and Mitchell are.

The vampire himself seemed uneasy for most of the night, especially at introductions. But as the night went on he seemed to only grow slightly less tense and Annie couldn’t pinpoint why. Eve (of course she was a blessed child) saved the day from any awkwardness with her attention grabbing ways. As Annie looked around the room at the end of the night she was happy to see both her boys content (Mitchell’s tense posture was probably from the fact Juliet and he’s relationship was not well received by George or Nina) they were alright.

“Annie, why are you crying?” George’s voice broke her train of thought and she turned to look at his bewildered and concerned face.

“Annie?” Nina was next to perk up and then from the corner of her eye she saw Mitchell move towards her and Juliet trail behind. Sucking it up she decided she wanted this moment with her makeshift family.

“No, no George I’m- I’m alright. I was just thinking, about how much we’ve all been through you know? But look where we are!” She smiled wide as she indicated to Eve and Nina and George’s clasped hands. “You got the girl and started a family! You’re a father George!” She smiled wide before turning to Mitchell.

She expected to feel pain, and in some ways she did, but more than that, she felt resigned. He had wanted to be normal and she knew having a relationship with her would never help him with that goal. They just weren’t meant for that, they weren’t meant to be lovers, but _god_ had they been _friends_.

“And Mitchell,” her voice caught as his eyes seared into her soul, gaze locked on her own. She smiled wide again, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sadness that marred her expression. “With a human, controlling the hunger, making a relationship _work_ after everything,” shaking her head she gave Juliet a quick smile which was retuned with a fairly bemused one. “We’ve just come so far. I’m proud of you both, my boys,” her voice caught and then she’s hugged tight by George. He wrapped long arms around her, eyes red.

“We couldn’t have done any of this without you Annie,” he said softly, his tone choked. She squeezed him tight, gaze catching the vampire’s over the werewolf’s shoulder. Mitchell’s eyes were blurred, never straying from her own. She gave him one last look before sliding her eyes shut and focusing on George.

The night ended soon after with Juliet citing work in the morning. Annie made sure to give the couple a quick goodbye before busying herself in the kitchen. Standing at the sink she let her gaze catch the outline of his figure as he moved down the Sands’ driveway. The darkness obscured everything but the vague outline of the couple but Annie could have sworn he turned to look back at her before disappearing around the corner. Shaking her head Annie looked down and stared hard at the tea cup covered in soapy water.

When she finally said goodnight to George and Nina, she rent-a-ghosted back to Honolulu Heights where a ghost with flaming red hair was waiting for her. Looking up, Laura sighed sadly before standing and pulling her friend into a tight hug. Annie wrapped her arms around squishy shoulders, breathing in a deep clarifying breath.

“You ready?” Laura’s voice was low and coaxing. Annie squeezed her eyes shut once more before pulling away.

“Yeah… yeah I think I am.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Mitchell couldn’t be bothered with Juliet that night. She knew he had moods, usually she tried to piss him off enough that at the very least he would fuck her in anger but not tonight. He was… he was distracted and it wasn’t her prerogative to drag him back from his thoughts. He sat on the couch downstairs, beer hanging from his fingertips and eyes blank.

Seeing Juliet with George and Nina and Eve and… and _Annie_ , it had been jarring to say the least. How long had it been since he sat down and talked with his two best friends? It felt like _years_ and it could have quite possibly been so. It was an easy excuse with George, he was a new father, he had a family, and he had a wedding to plan and a job and responsibilities.

But Annie, he had no excuse with Annie. God, when was the last time he had even been in Honolulu Heights? At least a month and a half now. He had picked up more hours at the hospital and the guys from Juliet’s bike shop always wanted to get a pint and the woman herself was demanding, but had he really been away from Annie that long?

A ghost friend had moved in. He didn’t even know her name. She had turned a boring book store into a hopping tea house, he barely remembered her getting the job in the first place. Annie was, she was living her life and doing things and he was missing it, Christ he was _missing her life_. When did ‘sowing his wild oats’ turn into being away from the woman he loved? When had it turned into _ostracizing himself from the woman he loved_ (he knew, it was the day Eve was born and his hands wouldn’t dirty her skin with fingers that had bruised another hours before).

When she had been taken from them, from _him_ he had missed her, _really_ missed her. That’s what he told George when it came up after her return. But that wasn’t quite right. No, when she was gone he had _ached_ for her. Tea and smiles and awkwardness and poltergeist powers and squishy coolness. He had laid in bed, tears running down the side of his face as he gripped the bedclothes with tense fingers (he took to gripping onto _her_ when he got her back) as he burned from the inside out, agony creeping from the hole she left in his chest. It was a sucking black abyss and nothing but Annie could fill it. Nothing but Annie could fill _him_.

So why did he stop gripping onto her? Why did he leave her alone so he could pretend to find meaning in someone else? He didn’t love Juliet, which was obvious, (he wouldn’t bruise her, bite her, _use_ her the way he did if it was love he felt). No, it wasn’t from affection that he stayed with her, it was fear. Pure, unadulterated _fear_ of what loving Annie would mean.

She would destroy him if she left, she would take what little existence he had and she would decimate him to ash. Annie had the one thing no one else had ever obtained, though many had tried- she had _power_ over him.

It scared Mitchell shitless.

So he did what every cliché man ever in the history of the world had taken to doing- he ran, he ran in hopes of calming the maelstrom inside his chest whenever he thought about losing her, about living a life without her, about her being gone and not being able to get her back.

 _Isn’t that the life you’re living now?_ The snide voice in his head made him drop the beer in in his hand.

God it was right. In fearing a life without Annie, he was _living_ _a life without Annie._

The shrill ring of his phone cut through the epiphanies hitting Mitchell in the face. Fumbling for a moment he finally got the device out of his pocket to find it was George calling. Scrunching his face in confusion he answered the phone with a sense of annoyance.

“What?”

“Mitchell! Mitchell its-its Annie. I think… I think she’s going to try and cross over!” There was a ringing in his ears, drowning out whatever else George was saying. It was as if the every ounce of strength left his body the second the words finally penetrated the fog in his mind. Mitchell dropped back into the couch (he didn’t even like this couch, he often lamented the loss of the one in Bristol when he sat on it) he didn’t realize his hands were shaking until he dropped his phone.

It was the end now, and he saw the beginning of it- the bright lights of the ER, blonde hair, strange smells. He would give anything to change that moment, to change the moment he began to pull away from the one thing in the world that mattered.

It was the end and _Christ_ he hated the beginning of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

The door came, the same door from that first attempt to cross over. Its rustic wood and metal mail slot cold to the touch. Annie stood before it, eyes watering but not from grief, from _relief_. This after life had been harder than her actual life in so many ways. “ _It’s an end_ ” that’s what Mitchell had said the first time around, the first time her door had appeared. Laura was smiling at her and Annie smiled right back.

“You’re not just a fellow ghost, are you?” The redhead smiled kindly before shaking her head. Annie nodded, eyes on the floor. It figures of course, that they would try and get her to cross over at some point. “Are… are the men with chains and ropes-“

“No, Annie. You were never meant for that place. This time there is peace, you deserve that, you always have.”

“Even though I turned down my first door?” She asked it quietly but her companion heard.

“You gave up your peace for your friends Annie, your heart has always been pure and kind. We never meant for you to be forced into purgatory. We couldn’t help you then, now we can. Finally you can have the end you always wanted.” Annie smiled, allowing her doubt to be burned away by the sincere look and tone before her.

“Thank you,” turning away from her friend she let her hand glide down the rough wood, hand caressing it as she went. When finger tips finally felt the cool metal she whispered the same words she had to George so long ago “it’s cold,” she murmured. A resigned peace hit her and sliding her eyes shut she gripped the handle.

“ _ANNIE!”_ It sounded distant as her wrist began to twist, the sound of the locks disengaging drowning out everything else.

“ _ANNIE PLEASE! PLEASE ANNIE, PLEASE STAY WITH ME!”_ It registered then, the voice behind her. It was a frightening tone, one filled with desperation and agony. “ _DON’T GO YET, ANNIE DON’T GO YET!”_ There was a sob, a roar, begging, why were they begging? She hoped whatever soul she was hearing found peace. She pulled the nob and the creak of the wood sent a thrill down her spine, stomach filled with butterflies of anticipation.

“ _I LOVE YOU. CHRIST ANNIE I LOVE YOU. PLEASE ANNIE I CAN’T- I CAN’T… ANNIE I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU AGAIN. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!”_ The sound was torn from a panicked throat, she could feel the words ripping their way out, leaving bleeding sores in their wake. Wanting to see who made such a sound Annie turned her head, peaking over her shoulder for just a moment.

Black curly hair, brown eyes speckled with green, fingerless gloves, three day scruff. As if waking up from a nightmare Annie’s mind focused on the face in front of her, a gasp leaving her mouth on instinct. She knew him, of course she did, but why was he here? Why-

The door groaned and she turned back to look at it, one hand on the nob.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Mitchell was on fire. Every part of his body, inside and out, was _burning_. Annie was leaving. _ANNIE WAS LEAVING_. Nothing, not a thing could touch this panic. Not waking up next to another woman covered in her own blood, not Herrick coming back for him time and time again, not thinking George was going to die by the vampire’s hand, nothing, _nothing_ touched the desperation that clawed up his spine and pressured his vocal chords. He knew he was screaming, god of course he knew he was screaming, but he couldn’t make it past whatever invisible barrier the red headed ghost next to Annie had put up. He kept running but he never quite reached her.

He couldn’t do it again, Christ he couldn’t live without her again. The two months she was in purgatory, they were hell. Nothing the other side could dish out, no method of torture would be able to compete with the feeling of her being carved out of his chest (dangerously close to his heart, or was that what she took with her?) and spirited away somewhere he couldn’t reach. And it was about to happen again, by her own hand.

He turned his attention to the woman next to the love of his life, the love of his long, long life.

“Please, please just let me- I need… I _need_ her, please I can’t. Christ I _can’t-”_ words were slurring, his vision dotted black around the edges, had he ever felt this way before? Had anything ever felt so god damn _real?_

 _“_ She gave up her door once for you John Mitchell. Be grateful for the time you had with her for it was, all of it, borrowed time.” A sob ripped from his lips, body finally hitting the floor. He felt his form shaking but his eyes stayed locked on brown curls and milk chocolate skin. A surge of absolute, desolate, _want_ shot through him. To touch her again, to hug her again, to watch her smile and laugh and drink her tea and watch her face freeze when she said something that made it awkward.

“I need more time,” it came out croaked, tears streaming down his face, hands clutching the carpet on either side of his hips. “I need _more time!”_ Because that was the crux of this wasn’t it? He had assumed that Annie would always be there while he indulge his dark side. He could fuck Juliet for a few more months or a year or two or three then stroll back into the B &B and begin his happily ever after with the woman who made him human by sight alone.

He thought they had eternity, he thought he had enough time.

“Mitchell?” Her voice was confused but the sound of it sent shock waves down through his whole body. He was on his feet, still blocked by a force he couldn’t see but he had her attention now, he could do this, he just needed more time.

“Annie! _Christ-_ Annie love what’re ya doin’?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as an accusation but the tone was unavoidable. _Make her mad_ his mind supplied. Of course! Annie was always more corporeal, more grounded, more _human_ when she was angry. He waited with baited breath for her to tell him off, to say he had no right to tell her what to do. That’s good, he knew how to goad her into a right state.

But she didn’t snap back, she didn’t turn steely and use her angry voice, no she did something much worse- she smiled. It wasn’t her happy ‘I made tea, life is good!’ smile. Nor was it her ‘I hate you and everything you stand for but, damn it, I’m polite’ smile either. No, this was… this was a resigned smile.

His insides shook.

“No, no, Annie, love, Annie, look at me!” He pressed his face as far as the barrier would allow. “We need more time Annie, you and me, we have- we have _things_ we need to work out and we can’t do that if you’re-“ he cut himself off, he wouldn’t speak it. “Come back love, just, just take a minute and really think about this.” His tone was placating, almost as if he was calming a wild animal, (and in some ways he felt like he was, but he wasn’t sure which one of them had gone feral) honestly it was the best he could do when his mind had lit itself on fire.

“It’s alright Mitchell,” there was that damn smile again. “Everything will be alright. George and Nina and baby Eve, they’re happy and safe. And you’re in control of the blood lust Mitchell and you’ve found someone you can-“

“I can what Annie?” Anger, wrathful all-consuming anger swept through him. “A human woman I can use, I can fuck and drink from? You think that’s what I want? You think that I- that I _care_ about her?” Annie looked appalled by his words. Good, she should be appalled _. Mitchell_ was appalled that she could ever think he would be able to love another woman after knowing her. “I don’t want Juliet Annie, she’s there to fill a need that’s all- I thought you knew that; knew that I was just… saying goodbye to that world before it was you and me. Always. Forever.” She was crying now, tears streaming down her face but her expression still showed shock and aversion.

“No Mitchell, I know it’s hard, I know change is difficult, but you’ll be alright and maybe Juliet isn’t your forever but you’ll find her and-“

“I have! I _have_ found her Annie, and I’m looking right at her.” His voice grew lower, softer as he tried to coax her closer. Her hand was still on the nob, the old wood open a crack. His eyes flickered to the dark line of the open door to her face then back to her hand on the nob. “Just… let’s talk about this Annie. I just need to talk to you.” Her face contorted then, anger and hurt in equal measure. His non beating heart seemed to palpitate in panic at the look.

“You’ve avoided talking to me for over two years Mitchell.” Her voice was hard but did not increase in volume. “I think the time for talking past a long while ago.” She broke eye contact, head turning back to the door. Mitchell jerked in protest.

“Annie! Annie don’t! Annie please, please don’t! I promise, Annie I _swear_ whatever you need, whatever you want- it’s yours. If you want all of me, every moment of the day it’s yours! If you want space, if you want to travel, if you want- _Christ_ Annie you can have it! Just- just come back to me, just let me… let me make it up to you, I promise, I swear, _I swear it_ , I’ll make it up to you! Anything Annie, everything, it’s yours just… just don’t, _god Annie_ , just don’t go through that door!” He was leaning heavily against the force between them, forehead pressed there, hands lying flat palmed on either side of his head. Nothing was making sense, he wondered if the last bit was even coherent, but he was losing the battle inside of himself fast.

 _She’s gone, she’s leaving, she won’t come back, you can’t get her back this time. Annie’s gone,_ ANNIE _is gone. Annie- your Annie._

_My Annie._

A cool touch to his cheek made him realize he was sobbing, words a jumble of promises and begging. His whole body shook with the force of it, the angry, heaving, ugly sobs of a man most desperate. This was not what he wanted, this was _never_ what he wanted. It was just for a little bit, he was falling into that blackened existence for a few months, a year or two was all. He was wrapped up in his own life but he always had her to come back too- that’s how it was supposed to go, how he planned it.

They had all of time stretched out before them, so much opportunity to know each other, to see the world, to watch over Eve’s children, grandchildren, _great grandchildren._ They would be that couple, the one that didn’t need to speak. A look or a gesture or a single touch would communicate everything. They would be so in tune with one another that strangers would look away for fear of intruding on a private moment.

And when the blood lust was too much she would take him somewhere remote, an island or a cabin deep in the woods and keep him focused on her. She would know the signs before he did at that point (she always was so much more in tune with his emotions than even he was) and would have a plan in place. They would curl up on the couch while his hands shook and his fangs ached in his gums but she would be there, tea in hand and body pressed tight to his. She would take the pain away by mere touch, mere presence of self, and he would think how lucky he was to have her despite never deserving her.

They would make love, they would find a way because together they always did. It wouldn’t be about blood or even release, it would be about further fusing them together, it would be about being one with her. Whatever was left of his soul would be transferred to her in those moments. Gentle hands would cradle it, nurse it back to health like her hands always did. He would be deep inside of her but it was her spirit, her very essence that his hands would seek out (it would be done with his own essence more so than his hands but that would take practice and knowledge he didn’t have yet) and when he found her the world would stop. Just the two of them, in that moment, the world stopping in its tracks to observe the unfathomable love that passed between vampire and ghost.

Annie would be brilliant and bubbly and they would stop over far too often because she was this magnet of sunshine and peace and happiness. They would stay at local hostels so she could socialize and no one would question them because she could be so corporeal and the rings on their fingers would seem so natural. He would marry her, (not in a church- he couldn’t go there) in a garden or a palace or the back yard of one of her many friends (she would collect them because she was irresistible to everyone). And though it wouldn’t change anything, (because _Christ_ they loved one another too much for a ceremony to change that) it would make him happier than he had ever been- in his life or death.

They couldn’t have children (he was pretty sure about that) but her mothering would endear her to whomever they met. Knowing his Annie (god, yes, _his Annie, his- always his, always)_ they would run across some poor starving kid on the street and she would take them in. He would be opposed at first, citing a million and one reasons why it was a terrible idea but a single look with those big brown eyes and they would settle in a house in town. She would raise the kid like her own, making him fall in love with her all over again as her heart shined through her eyes and her touch and words.

They would grow up loved (maybe Mitchell would love them too, if for no other reason than he loved his Annie so much) and eventually they two would move on, leaving a happy and whole human in their wake. Annie would create family after family but when they passed on it wouldn’t be sadness she felt but _joy_ that they lived a full life, a happier life, because she was there.

Eternally in love, eternally _happy_ and _complete_ that’s what he was waiting for (it’s also what he was running from but he doesn’t acknowledge that line of thinking just now) something he never thought he would have. It was at his fingertips, slipping through an old wooden door. Arms shook, chest heaving, body revolting because she couldn’t leave him like this; with a million dreams and thousand memories of her smile, alone, broken, _adrift_ without her steady presence and steadier heart. She couldn’t leave him, _she couldn’t_.

He didn’t realize half of his thoughts were coming out between trembling lips, didn’t realize he was detailing every intimate dream he kept to himself out loud in front of a virtual stranger and the love of his life. There was a good bit of slurring but the main ideas poured out of him like a waterfall, rushing past with a deafening roar as he opened the cage he kept the goodness Annie created in him locked away in while entertaining his darkness.

It felt good, to release it all, to let it flow out of him, dam opened, unstoppable wave after wave of longing and hopeful futures and love drowning out the world around him. So many of these thoughts were never given voice, never allowed to truly take root in his mind because there was something so fleeting about them. Mitchell felt that if he gave voice to them they would crumble into dust (much like he suspected he would, and much sooner than he liked to think now that his Annie was gone again) because he wasn’t in a place to accept them yet, to give substance to fleeting ideas of dreams.

Cool hands were framing his face. He knew that touch, he _knew that touch_. His head jerked up, hair a matted disaster, plastered to his cheek, shoulders still trembling, jaw clenched and eyes red and blurry but he saw what was before him clear as day. Bright, concerned brown eyes looked back at him with the most broken expression.

But she was here, she was with him in this moment and she wasn’t gone through the door so he counted it a win. Mitchell wasn’t sure what else to do but latch onto her so she couldn’t change her mind (so _he_ couldn’t change his mind about letting himself have what he didn’t deserve- not by a long shot) so he wrapped trembling arms around her stomach and buried his face in soft grey fabric.

He could stay here, entangled around her for eternity. No heart beat but her habitual breathing moved her chest in steady rhythmic motions that made him nuzzle a little harder into her torso. Deep inhale, nuzzle, fingers griping harder, deep exhale. It wasn’t until after a few dozen rounds of this that he realized her voice was gently trying to coax him into answering.

“Mitchell?” A shudder ran down his spine at the sound of his name on her lips. He exhaled in complete rapture at it (funny how he never found such fulfillment or pleasure in countless encounters with Juliet, but all it took was his name from his Annie’s lips to tear him apart).

A loud crash of the front door, the sound of hurried stumbling steps, panting, someone hit the living room wall with a good bit of force. “Annie!” the name from George’s lips made the woman (ghost) in question start to pull away from their embrace.

Mitchell whimpered then, like a wounded dog, head still buried in her torso. Clinging just a little tighter, hands groping to encompass more of her body so he could hold her form to his own. He couldn’t let her go yet, not when he had been seconds away from an existence without her by his side. George could hang for all he cared.

“It’s okay George it’s… well no it’s not but it’s… bloody hell I don’t really know what it is.” A smile crept across his face, his body sagging a bit in the confirmation of his Annie and her unique brand of awkward encounters.

“You- but- the- you- doors!” The werewolf was out of breath, trying to formulate words. That wasn’t quite happening.

“I know, I’ll explain in a bit but right now I think… I think Mitchell needs some time,” her last phrase was whispered (as if he wasn’t riveted to her, tracking every inhale, every slight movement, every sound she made) and it made him smile again.

They could stay like this for eternity and Mitchell, well Mitchell would be just fine.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

It wasn’t all rainbows and happy endings. Eventually Annie had to let go of him (there were whimpers, there were protests, there were (god he didn’t want to admit it) tears and panic) so she could attend to George and soon Nina and baby Eve as well. Annie wasn’t quite sure what to do so she did what was best for every situation- she made tea.

Laura had vanished, so had her door and it was… well it was confusing to say the least. Annie was not often one to look into the meaning of things, she liked to stay present, living in the moment, but her decision to once again forsake her door shook her. Would she get a _third_ chance? She didn’t know and that was a frightening reality she would need to address. But in the meantime she had to, well, _deal_ with Mitchell.

The ghost had absolutely not one clue what to do with a clingy vampire. Never had she felt so stifled by another individual- not in life and not in her afterlife. Maybe Gilbert, but she sought him out and they spent time apart, but Mitchell hadn’t left her side since her almost crossing over last month. The bastard wouldn’t even go to the loo without her outside the door (he claimed he could see her silhouette through the glass but she thought he might have been making that up).

She had popped to the shop one night to get more tea (she had made quite a few cuppas, as visitors from the book club had been stopping by and Nina and George were around every other day now) and when she returned…

He had been screaming her name when she unlocked the front door. The same awful tone he had used when she was about to cross over. It was panicked, anguished, distraught and _hurt_ to hear. She had called his name back, citing her location and he came barreling down the stairs. Dropping the bags in her hands (it resulted in spilled milk all over the front hall which Mitchell mopped up without complaint) had been unavoidable due to his unhampered momentum as he reached her.

Annie wrapped her arms around his neck on instinct, shushing him like an infant as tremors wracked his body, face buried in her neck and shoulder. He kept mumbling to himself as he held her to him, the shaking taking at least five minutes to subside. Breathing regulated eventually but when he pulled back from her it was only so he could have access to her mouth.

The kiss was forceful and insistent. Hands slid from her shoulders to band around her waist and fingers to tangle in her hair. He bent her forward a bit, covering her body with his own entirely. He was gasping for air as he broke the connection of their mouths, puffs of air noisily leaving his lungs as he trailed teeth and tongue across her jaw. Eventually she led him back upstairs and laid with him. They situated as they had the last two weeks, her on her back with Mitchell’s arm possessively over her waist and her legs tucked between his own. He would nuzzle into her neck, cheek resting on her breast before falling into a fitful sleep.

She was frightened by this Mitchell. Not in the same way ‘blood-lust Mitchell’ scared her, or ‘distant broody, I probably just want to suck someone dry Mitchell’ scared her. This was, unhealthy, in about ten million different ways.

The vampire was dependent on her, he wouldn’t go to work, he wouldn’t leave the house, he wouldn’t do anything that required he leave her side. Almost a month had passed in this manner and Annie was about six and a quarter inches from losing her mind. He was stifling and more importantly, he wasn’t _Mitchell_.  He conceded to her every whim, they never disagreed (good god, even in the greatest and most stable of times in their relationship they disagreed constantly) they never fought. It was like living with a very attentive, very _clingy_ robot programmed to do whatever she wanted without complaint.

She hated it.

“Mitchell,” her hands were twisting in the fabric of her grey top, eyes on her moon ring while she walked in his direction. “I was thinking about, well, about starting up at the bookshop again. I emailed my former boss and he is thrilled at the idea of me coming back.” She stuttered it out, eyes flicking up to see that look on his face, the look of adoration and affection that was rarely missing from it now-a-days.

“That’s great Annie! I know you loved working there and book club isn’t the same without you in store.” Oh, and he joined book club, her _all female_ book club.

Christ they needed space.

“Yeah! Yeah I’m really excited about it.” She paused, looking up to gage his reaction to her next words. “So, with me getting back into employment I was thinking you should too… you know, start up at the hospital again?” It was a gentle suggestion and she saw the moment the implications of it set in.

“I- well, I don’t know Annie, it’s, we… we’ve still got so much to work out and-“

“Mitchell we can still work everything out! We can still be together without _always_ being together.” She drew out the ‘always’ and knew it was a mistake almost instantly. She longed to make tea.

“You don’t want to spend time with-“

“For _god’s sake_ Mitchell, you haven’t let me out of your sight in almost a month!”

“Of course I haven’t! You think I want to risk you trying to cross over again?!”

“If I want to cross over, the word _if_ being primary, then you standing there won’t change anything! But god Mitchell I gave up another door for you, I _chose_ to stay, you have to trust me now that I’ll choose to stay again if given the opportunity!” She was breathing hard but it was Mitchell’s face that was turning red.

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just waiting for me to-“

“To what? Blink? Turn around? Be gone for longer than five minutes? I stayed because I wanted to, it was _my_ choice and it wasn’t just you I stayed for, not everything is about you Mitchell.” Her last words were exasperated as she realized the real reason behind his clinging.

They stood in silence for a while, eyes locked on one another’s, both breathing hard (though technically neither needed to breathe and that was acknowledge deep in the minds of both sides) waiting for, well for something.

“I love you,” his tone was despondent and scared and so much like a little boy who didn’t know any better. “I love you and any second I can’t see you or feel you or touch you… I’m there again, banging against an invisible wall, _begging_ you to stay with me, watching you turn your back on me and this time you leave. This time you don’t come back and you’re gone and I’m _terrified_ Annie.” His voice cracks in four places and Annie’s eyes run with more tears (she’s cried more this month than her whole existence combined it feels like) but she moves forward, hands sliding from his chest to his neck to frame his face.

“I love you too,” she says it softly, hoping to calm him a bit. He finally catches her gaze as she continues. “I love you Mitchell, but we can’t keep going on like this. I have a job now, you need to go back to yours. I have friends you have friends, we need to be ourselves while being _us_ okay? I’m staying, with you, always, okay? You and me for eternity, for always,” thumbs swipe away rolling tears as they fall.

“Okay, okay Annie whatever you want,” he’s so caught up in the moment it takes him a second to process that she just backhanded him in the chest. Quite firmly too.

“And stop that!” Her eyes are bright and happy but utterly serious. “Stop just… conceding to my every whim! We disagreed constantly, I want my Mitchell back, with his different opinions and sarcasm and wit and brooding.” She scrunches her brows a moment. “Well actually I could get used to the lack of brooding to be honest,” she smiles at the idea.

“You’re Mitchell huh?” His Irish drawl sends shivers down her spine as he walks forward, body now pressing rather intimately into her own. Brown and green eyes are shining bright as he gazes down at her, all cheery and sexy (damn his ability to turn her to mush).

“I own you John Mitchell,” she says it in jest but she sees his eyes darken a bit.

“Yes you do Annie Sawyer.” When they kiss its passion and promise and love.

When they kiss it’s the beginning of everything and it tastes like tea and smells like home.


End file.
